Halfway Idiots
by snippetcentric
Summary: Sequel to 'Freelance Mage'. Taking it slow should never mean to be this slow. f!Hawke x Merrill
1. Hapless Maiden

A/N: I earlier planned to include this arc in something which stretched out to Act 3, but that will have to wait. Yes, I have a grand, evil plan. For the meantime, enjoy more silliness. Also, a proofreader might be nice. Sigh.

Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to EA and Bioware. Derivative work is mine.

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><p>Hawke mechanically threw a flurry of spirit magic at the Revenant before her, kept busy by the heavily-armored Aveline. That and several skeleton archers as well as reanimated corpses. Meanwhile, she was in an inconspicuous corner, knocking out the wind out of every poor sod which came near her with a mind blast or blown to bits with force magic, her favorite as of late. The rest of the party, Isabela and Merrill, have taken rear guard in the adjoining hall, taking care of an Arcane Horror and shades. It was all for the better; Merrill did not want Tarohne's tomes destroyed but would not protest either, so she just chose to stay out of sight whenever they stumbled into one.<p>

The mage prepared to end her attack with a flourish, twirling her father's golden staff in her hands, gently brushing over the womanly-lumps of the adorning figure at its end. Her mind momentarily went blank.

"Watch it, Hawke!" Aveline cried in pain as her companion's ghostly spirit hand grazed her flank. The guard-captain sidestepped in time, barely avoiding being bludgeoned by the Revenant. Aveline drew her torso back and with the momentum, slammed her shield against the reanimated corpse and sent the Revenant staggering.

Hawke looked dazed for a second and cried an apology. Anxious for redemption, her eyes scurried for the enemies upon Aveline; a staggered Revenant, two corpses, and three archers at a short distance. A smug smile curled her lips as she raised her right hand, lifting the hapless corpses with warped gravity. She even jumped up, sending the corpses twice her lift, then threw her hand down violently shortly before landing. The enemies mirrored Hawke's action with exponential force; the skeletons shattered upon impact while the Revenant's body produced a sickening crack. The demon-possessed corpse feebly lifted its arm in a final effort, only to be thwarted when Aveline lopped its head off.

"You sure took your sweet time," Aveline smirked, jogging with her companion towards the other half of the party. A hand held the side which was earlier grazed by Hawke. "Your magic's gotten ridiculously strong but your aim's piss-poor. Try practice." A cry from Isabela sent the pair running.

"I said sorry, but at least I'm not a man," Hawke breathlessly replied with a grin then readied her staff for enemy leftovers. Instead, they were greeted by swirling mists of what looked like shades, a deader Arcane Horror and Isabela cursing while face-first on floor, her ass sticking out on the air. Standing in the center of the scene was a panicked Merrill. Hawke was alarmed for a moment until she felt retreating nature magic into the elf. The scenario before her then made sense. Hawke's jaw tensed, holding back a chuckle.

"Isabela! Are you hurt?" Merrill cried as she ran to her friend's side, who had just shifted into a more dignified sitting position. She knelt beside Isabela and began fussing over the woman. "I'm so sorry! I didn't see you and I was being surrounded I had to ensnare them but then you were there after all oh, Mythal, you're bleeding! Hawke!"

"Just a scratch, Kitten, no worries." Isabela winced, looking at her torn boots and the broken skin beneath. "And I was sneaking, so of course you'd have trouble seeing me."

"That never happened before even if you're sneaking, Isabela." Aveline shot a look at Merrill then back to Hawke. "Same thing with our other mage. This one here just grazed me with her magic wand."

"Staff, Aveline, staff." Hawke wiggled her golden rod. "Wands cannot be used as bludgeons in case templars are looking." She smiled as her hands glowed with a blue light, ignoring Aveline's obvious displeasure. "Do we need to draw lots?"

Aveline shook her head as she flipped open her pack. "I'm fine with a potion. Mind Isabela."

"And no scars please." Isabela raised her hand while her similarly colored eyes flickered with amusement at their leader's new golden weapon. Her gaze followed the staff as Hawke leaned to the pirate's side, joined by a worried Merrill. "And I must say, I like your naked woman on a stick."

"Belonged to my father," Hawke snickered as she unbuckled one of Isabela's boots. Merrill was soon on the other and eased both off from her friend's legs, deftly avoiding the cuts. "I finally figured how to fix it the other day," Hawke ended as she drew her hands to the injured areas.

"Must've been a horndog to have that kind of staff. Now I know who you take aftAAAH!" the raider threw her head back when she felt a rush of cool sensation pouring onto her leg. The cuts immediately stitched themselves and were gone without a trace.

Isabela rasped for several moments, before exhaling loudly, wiping beads of sweat from her forehead. "Maker's balls, Hawke! You're so much better at this than Anders."

Hawke only smirked as she ran a finger on Isabela's newly healed skin. "There, nice and clean." She picked up a boot and handed it to the pirate with a wink. "And has there been any doubt? I am _Hawke_, after all."

Isabela turned to Merrill, utterly serious. "Does she do that during sex?" She completely missed the flaming blush on the elf's face for she again turned to Hawke, who had gotten back to her feet and was already headed for Aveline. "You totally should. I just came!"

"Sure you're fine with that potion?" Hawke nervously smiled at Aveline, a slight blush on her face. "Isabela's vouching for my skills."

"I'm sure, the runes helped," Aveline replied, putting the emptied potion bottle into her pack while she looked curiously at her friend. "Are you alright? You've been..." she trailed off as she looked over Hawke's shoulder and gestured her eyebrows at Merrill. "Distracted."

Hawke discreetly looked to her side and watched Merrill, who had by then returned to fussing over Isabela, buckling the latter's boots for her. She turned back to Aveline and leaned over to her ear. "Somewhat. May I have a word with you later, in private?"

Aveline rubbed her temples while frowning. "If this is what I think it is, you're better off with Isabela's words."

Hawke shook her head as she raised a finger between her lips and pleadingly looked at Aveline. "No, I'm sure your words are what I need."

"Fine, at the barracks." Aveline sighed. "But I warn you, if you're hoping for an obscene favor I'll tell Leandra myself."

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><p>Off-duty guardsmen and women saluted their guard-captain as soon as she entered the barracks with her noble shadow, Serah Hawke. Aveline gave a slight nod to her subordinates, while Hawke drew her hands behind her back and gave the guards her most charming smile. As soon as Hawke closed the door behind her they heard the muffled beginnings of an argument regarding who the noblewoman was smiling at. "Still got it," Hawke beamed while polishing her fingernails on her robes. Aveline only sighed. They have left Isabela at the Hanged Man as the pirate insisted she needed a stiff drink after her first non-sexual orgasm. Merrill likewise opted for the tavern, obviously feeling guilty for the accident with her bestfriend.<p>

"So, hurry up, out with it." Aveline began as she leaned on the side of her desk, crossing her arms on her chest as she addressed her friend. "If this is related to Merrill I can't imagine what I have to offer."

Hawke dragged a chair towards Aveline, setting it faced to the latter then wearily plopped on the furniture. "If you were this forward with Donnic you'd never had to endure my jests," Hawke chided with a small smile.

"Like how you're beating around the bush now?" Aveline smiled at the memory. "Only the two of us here and you have my absolute confidence."

"Alright, alright," Hawke raised both of her hands, gazing at Aveline with the same pleading look earlier. "But promise not to laugh. Or get angry, for that matter."

"Now that you've asked it's become harder to promise but sure," the guard-captain replied, her patience thinning. "Just say it."

Hawke tilted her head down to stare at her lap. Her fingers fiddled with the luxurious fabric of her robes, then finally looked up to Aveline with a question.

"How did you manage three years without..._you know_?"

Aveline's green eyes widened, then narrowed, anger and mortification mixed but evident on her freckled face. Hawke instinctively drew back into the chair but true to her word, Aveline kept her cool. "I...kept busy. Keeping the peace and your unending errands. Why?"

Hawke sunk her face into her hands, hiding a very rare expression: embarrassment.

Realization struck; an uncharacteristic sadistic grin appeared on Aveline's face. "No wonder you're distracted. It's been, what, three months since Merrill?"

"Three months and six days." Hawke groaned.

She held her sides, one tingling from the earlier graze and then with the tension of restrained laughter. "I can't imagine why you should do without. You have Merrill and you're but a notch above Isabela."

Hawke kept her hands on her face as her elbows rested on her knees. "I've stopped sleeping around since Merrill but..." she paused, groping for words, but ended with a sigh. "I could never get her to relax enough and she always gives off this," the woman straightened up, put on a wide-eyed expression quite similar to the elf's and shook her hands before herself. "'Oh no I'm not ready yet please don't violate me' aura."

Aveline strangled a fit of laughter by biting her bottom lip, ending with a red face as she did so. The desperate look on her friend's face nudged the guard-captain to regain her composure. She coughed into her armored hand and regarded Hawke in a serious tone. "I'm touched you came to me with this, Hawke, but my previous situation wasn't like yours. For one, I didn't have a partner, willing or not. And aren't you used to..." Aveline shuddered. "Deflowering hapless maidens? Should Merrill be any different?"

Hawke frowned. "It's very different. I just ran off and away from whatever tangled emotions that came afterward." She stared off to the side, her blue eyes reflected a deep longing, a look even Aveline understood. "I love Merrill. At least I want her first to be special and only when she's ready." Hawke bitterly snorted, "Unlike mine."

Aveline raised a hand to her forehead. "Do I even want to ask?"

"Let's just say I've relived my first with those hapless maidens you mentioned, except that I gave them a pleasant time." Hawke chuckled, easily discarding her earlier bitterness. She stood up from her seat, giving the guard-captain a small curtsy. "Just keep busy? Sounds easy enough."

"I hope so." The taller woman sighed. "No offense but as I've said, you're but a notch away from that slattern."

Hawke laughed heartily then gave Aveline a tight hug, which was returned by the latter. "None taken. But previously, I must add. I'm a changed woman!" Hawke pulled back from her friend, then pointed to the staff she carried. "For the meantime, the only breasts I'm caressing are mine and this shameless woman's."

Aveline shook her head, not bothering to hold her laughter. "You're hopeless, Hawke. Also, keep your eyes and ears open. You've always been apt with everyone's business except yours."

"Oh, Aveline, you know me so well." Hawke's hand rested on her friend's breastplate then whispered close to her ear. "Maybe I should steal you from Donnic instead?"

The guard-captain laughed harder, gently pushing the other woman away. "Truly hopeless, Hawke. Now get out and good luck."


	2. Four Play

A/N: I must thank blackrising for being a dear, suckered into proofreading like that. Let's give her a round of applause~

Disclaimer: EA and Bioware owns the characters in this story. I'm just messing with them for my own sinister purposes.

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><p>Merrill's eyes were glazed as she repeatedly shuffled the deck of cards on the table. She was waiting for Isabela who had gone off to the bar, catching up with Corff on daily gossip. Varric was with her at the table, dividing betting chips for an upcoming round of Wicked Grace.<p>

The dwarf gave his companion a passing glance, then pushed a pile of chips towards Merrill. "Stop worrying, Daisy. We all get mishaps," Varric commented. "Remember Rivaini and the spider incident? Even our dear Hawke almost lost it." He chuckled at the memory.

"Kitten wasn't with us then, a good thing," Isabela added as she joined the table, carrying three mugs of ale. Merrill's gaze followed the mug as the other woman pushed it towards her. Isabela handed out Varric's drink as well before sitting beside the elf with a wry grin on her lips. "Hawke was scary mad then. I stank of spider innards for weeks."

Merrill sighed as she started handing out cards. "I'm still at fault, 'Bela. If only I paid more attention I could have told where you were and I not just," she ducked, glancing at the adjoining tables, then with a lowered voice, she continued, "Cast that spell. If you were any closer to me then you might have lost your legs." Her small frame sunk deeper into her chair.

"Well, I'd be a real pirate then, Kitten. Imagine, peg legs!" Isabela laughed as she peeked at her cards. She then nudged Merrill with her shoulder. "At least I got a taste of Hawke out of it." Varric knitted his brows at Isabela, who simply replied with a smile. "Not like that. I know Kitten's not into sharing. You should try one of Hawke's heals, next best thing to sex and sailing."

"Thanks for the tip," Varric smirked and started arranging his hand. "I'll ditch my potions next time."

"Pfft, you're no fun." Isabela sipped from her tankard and fixed her eyes to the side, quietly watching Merrill. The flustered elf was fumbling through her cards and was practically holding them out for Isabela to see. She grinned at the her friend's obvious discomfort as she began picking through her own cards. "Honestly, Kitten. Apology accepted. I completely understand," Isabela coolly said as she pushed several chips to the table's center, keeping her gaze away from Merrill. "If that heal's already foreplay for your girl I'd be tripping all over myself too."

Merrill looked at her friend, confused. "Four play?" She rubbed her forehead with one hand and raised a similar amount of chips against Isabela's. "I'm afraid Hawke hasn't taught me that game yet. Is it similar to Wicked Grace? I should ask her next time, she just bought this brand new set of stacks, you know. They're so smooth to the touch," Merrill gushed as she thumbed through her cards. "Not like your worn ones, Isabela. You should buy a new stack as well, though they're quite pricey in Hightown."

Isabela and Varric looked dumbfounded at Merrill.

"What?"

With that, the pair exploded into hysterical laughter. Merrill looked even more confused than earlier.

"Was that...something dirty?" Merrill asked no one in particular with a small frown, focusing intensely on her cards. Isabela and Varric couldn't answer; they were still busy banging their hands on the table, laughing. Several gambling chips fell from the table. The elf deflated with a sigh, covering her face with her hands and cards. "Creators, why do I keep missing these things? This is why we haven't done it yet."

Isabela abruptly dropped her hand and laughter, along with her jaw. Varric, meanwhile, coughed as he calmly pushed himself off the table, tipping an imaginary hat towards Isabela. "Aaalright, this is your show, Rivaini." He then regarded Merrill with the same gesture. "I'm calling it an early night to leave you two to your girls talk. That and Bianca's calling." The dwarf immediately rushed off to his suite before his companions could notice the rush of blood to his ears.

Isabela and Merrill were then left with each other; the raider still unable to pick her jaw and the elf wringing her hands together in her typical anxiety. The uneasy silence between them prevailed over the constant drone of the tavern's folk.

"I...I said that out loud, didn't I?" Merrill finally asked, quite sheepishly.

Isabela snapped out of her trance but continued to stare at Merrill, golden eyes wide with disbelief. "I'm sorry Kitten but what did you just say? You haven't done _it_ yet? By _it_ you can't mean sex, can you?" The pirate rambled her questions in quick succession before slumping her chin on her palm. "Because this is Hawke we're talking about. The only thing that stays virginal around that harlot is olive oil."

Merrill could only nod, biting her quivering bottom lip. Isabela sighed and took the girl's hand. "Aww, there there, Kitten. Please tell me you've at least made out."

"Made out?" Merrill hiccuped her building sobs away. The bronzed woman groaned.

"Like kissing, necking, groping? Like this," Isabela brought Merrill's hand to her chest. The elf's eyes widened with surprise.

But Isabela was even more surprised when Merrill gave her breast a light squeeze.

"L-like that?" the lithe woman stuttered.

"Yes, yes, like that." Isabela released Merrill's hand, failing to restrain a laugh. "You've done that, right?"

"Yes, we've done that," Merrill whispered wistfully while looking at the hand she groped Isabela with. She then took her sour ale and took several gulps. "Oh," Merrill finished, almost dropping the empty mug on the floor. "I didn't think I was that thirsty."

"Expectedly so, Kitten, if you were thinking what I thought you were thinking." Isabela teased before sipping her own ale. "Well," she resumed while resting her cheek on her palm, gesturing to Merrill with a mug in the other hand. "You do this on a regular basis?"

Merrill started drinking from Varric's abandoned tankard. "Everytime she visits, which isn't as often as I'd like." She frowned with heavy eyes. "And sometimes when she catches me watering her garden."

"Watering her garden, eh?" Isabela chuckled as she eyeballed Norah, the waitress. Soon, their mugs were refilled.

Merrill grinned. "Oh, that came out dirty, didn't it?"

"My my, you're quicker when you're drinking," Isabela faced the other woman and leaned closer, their foreheads almost touching. "Sounds like you mix mits often enough for it to lead to bed. What's stopping you? Some kind of Dalish tradition?"

Merrill drooped into her friend's shoulder, sighing. "Oh, I dunno...I think it's because I always manage to kill the mood or whatever," she mumbled while her index began tracing idle lines on Isabela's exposed hip. "I keep thinking I'll mess it up. Hawke's just so...experienced, while I don't even know where to start pawing at. Last time I even asked her why her tongue was in my mouth. I'm such a fool! Who does that while kissing?"

The pirate did not answer.

Merrill tilted her head up and was met with a glassy look. " Isabela?"

Isabela snapped out of her reverie. "Oops, sorry, enjoyed that finger too much," she chuckled then gave Merrill's cheek a pinch. "Tried that with Hawke? It'll do wonders!"

"No, no, I could never!" Merrill pulled away from Isabela. She grabbed her mug and took a huge gulp. "Maybe I should go to her while tipsy," the elf muttered, wiping the corner of her mouth with a thumb.

Isabela frowned then snatched the ale away from Merrill.

"Hey! 'Bela!" the smaller woman protested, sluggishly reaching for the cup. Isabela stood up on the tip of her toes, holding the drink with her arm outstretched over her head. The act effectively frustrated Merrill from her efforts.

"Anyone else I'd recommend that but no, not for you," Isabela said firmly, still standing on her toes.

"Why not?" Merrill spat, hopping as she reached for the tankard. "It'll make..." she hopped again, the edge of middle finger brushed the bottom of the tankard, "...things..." she squatted to prepare for another hop, but a look of enlightenment passed her face. Merrill resorted to pulling Isabela's arm. "..._easier_!"

Isabela held the smaller girl's chin with a firm hand, stopping the latter's antics. "Trust me Kitten, you don't want to be drunk on your first night with a lover." Her hand let go of Merrill's face then went to a shoulder, gently guiding the elf down to her chair. As Merrill sat, Isabela seated directly before her. She cupped Merrill's face with both hands, giving it a light slap so that the elf's drowsy eyes met her golden pair. "You awake, Kitten?"

"I g-guess," Merrill sounded unsure, knitting her eyebrows as she tried to focus on her friend's hazy face.

"Good, now listen." Isabela locked eyes with Merrill, her voice strong and firm. "You're lovers, you'd want to remember your first night and being drunk won't help that. More so for you, you're a sodding virgin in love. Do you want to greet Hawke the next morning with 'What's that sting between my legs?' or 'Was it good?'"

Merrill vigorously shook her head against Isabela's hands.

The pirate chuckled. "That's my girl," she said as she finally released Merrill's face after giving the cheeks a soft pat. "Now no more ale for you." Isabela declared, then proceeded to successively guzzle down all three mugs. She finished her drinking with a boisterous belch.

Merrill covered her mouth with a hand as she allowed a soft yawn. She set her arms down on the table and rested her head upon them. "So what should I do now?" she mumbled, on the verge of sleep.

"More make out sessions and get used to the idea that tongues are just the start." Isabela followed with a laugh. "The main course will involve even more squishy bits." She then puffed her ample bosom with great pride. "Lucky for you I have books for that, and I know how much you love books."

A quiet "mmm thanks" was Merrill's only affirmation. Her heavy eyes then pleaded with Isabela. "Promise you'll let me handle this on my own?"

Isabela was taken aback for a second, then gave a raspy chuckle. "Saw through me, huh?" She gingerly ran her dark fingers through the elf's hair. "If you insist, Kitten; I promise."

Merrill responded with a smile and was soon asleep on the poor table. Isabela rubbed the back of her neck as Varric appeared behind her.

"Looks like you get the floor tonight, Rivaini."

"Not the first time," Isabela sneered and gave the dwarf's arm a soft swat. "Now c'mon, let's put that manly chest to good use and tuck Kitten in."


	3. Certain Needs

A/N: Yes, you've got the right story, we're still in the Halfway Idiots train.; Addendum: I'm sorry it took longer than my usual pace, been a bit out of the weather. Thanks for the kind encouragement and reviews! They keep my demented brain going =D!

Disclaimer: I do own the characters in this story, EA and Bioware does. Derivative work is mine.

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><p>"Mahariel," Wynne puts her scholarly hands on the girl's shoulder. "Would you care to give these old bones some help?" The rest of the camp had fallen asleep and the young Warden is left with nightwatch duty in the company of the elder but beautiful and well-endowed mage.<p>

The Warden, helpful and kind as she is, immediately offers her nod in assent. "Of course, Wynne! Anything you need."

Wynne grins, fine lines appearing in the corner of her mouth. "You see, I've been meaning to write a book about the Dalish's art of blood writing."

Mahariel's gem-like eyes sparkle with sorrow. "Oh, I'm so sorry but I'm afraid I cannot share how it's done."

"I know, Mahariel, and I wouldn't ask that from you. But I'd like to know if it goes beyond the face?" The sophisticated mage implores as her gray eyes covet her junior's smiling red lips.

"What a curious thing to ask, Wynne, of course it does!" The Dalish Warden takes off a glove and raises her sleeve, revealing intricate lines running up from the tips of her fingers to her arm, disappearing into the garment. Mahariel's other hand continues from where the lines disappeared, tracing invisible lines on her left shoulder then curves down several times around each breast then ends her imaginary painting with the other shoulder. The mage's lustful stare follows every line. "It covers everything, really," Mahariel finishes, unaware of the woman's intentions.

"What I really need is an illustration of how it looks entirely." Wynne takes out a sheet of parchment, a bottle of ink and quill from a leather pack which lay on her side. "I hope you don't mind."

The Warden turns a lovely shade of pink. "You want to see everything? But I have to be naked for that."

"It's for knowledge, Mahariel." Wynne places an arm around the girl's shoulders then draws her close. The scent of the forest and earth fill the mage's nostrils, heightening her desire. "You want the world to understand your people better, yes?"

Mahariel looks thoughtful, highlighting her innocent visage. "Yes, I suppose. Very well!" Her deft hands already popping at the fastens of her Dalish breastplate. "Please make sure you get every detail right, Wynne. It's very very intricate, after all."

"Oh, I will." Wynne grins wider and runs her fingers through Mahariel's soft hair. She eases the girl out of her armor and soon her experienced hands are on the tender smooth skin of Mahariel's bre...

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><p>Merrill stuffed a marker in the thin book out of habit then shut it closed. "El'garnan, how rude!" she cried as she put 'Warden's Tattoos' aside. The former First did not know which incensed her more, the horribly inaccurate portrayal of blood writing or it involving her childhood friend. She may be over Mahariel but she was not ready to read about her sexual encounters, imaginary or not. Merrill paused as a frown formed on her face, then retrieved her marker from the previous book. "No, I think I'm done with that. Poor Mahariel," she mumbled, momentarily fearing how would she be depicted in stories if she ever became famous like her clanmate. She then giggled. "As if that'll ever happen," she told herself as she settled for the next title, 'The Divine Exchange'.<p>

Merrill sat in front of her study desk, her usual elven reading materials set aside and replaced with the lurid rags Isabela sent her home with. A book rest lay on the center of the desk, easing Merrill's posture for the long hours she spent reading. A cup and pitcher of water was on the other end of the desk, which the elf deemed necessary within easy reach given then content she was reading.

She reached for a cup of water as she began reading her latest choice, only to be interrupted by a knock on her door. Merrill stiffened. It could only be one person.

"Merrill?" Hawke's voice pierced through the door, followed by another knock. The elf's eyes widened in horror when the knob began to turn. She stumbled to the door and held it tight, preventing entry.

"H-Hawke!" Merrill cried, pushing her weight against the door. "I'm not decent! Could you give me a minute?"

"Oh, I'm sure I'd like the view," Hawke gibed, making the blood drain from Merrill's face as she looked at the obscene materials on her desk. She was already gathering mana to set the books on fire when she heard soft laughter from Hawke. "I jest, Merrill. I'll wait."

Merrill sighed in relief and ran to her desk and hurriedly grabbed every smut rag. The thin books were almost spilling against her spindly arms and chest as she ran into her bedroom then carelessly thrust the materials under her bed. She glanced for a moment at the eluvian to check herself but remembered it did not reflect, eliciting an elven curse from her lips. Merrill hastily unbuckled her belt, throwing it over the thin mattress and mussed her hair. She kicked a stray book back to the hiding spot before running back to the doorway. The door flung open and Merrill was greeted by Hawke's smiling face. "Aneth ara, ma vhenan," she returned the smile through a breathless greeting, feeling warm from the burst of physical activity.

"And a g'noon, Love. Overslept?" Hawke asked she stepped into the house, closing the door behind her. Merrill nodded in reply. As soon as the door clicked the taller woman punctuated her greeting with a kiss on the elf's lips.

The elf swooned with the gesture, picking up the faint scent of lilies from the other woman; Hawke might be overly vain at times, but at least she bathed regularly unlike most humans. "You used the fragrant oils I made?" Merrill asked, smiling even as Hawke pulled away.

Hawke grinned and landed another peck on the other's lips. "You could tell?" she asked, resting a palm on Merrill's cheek and tracing vallaslin lines with her thumb. The latter nodded as she felt her cheek grow warmer against Hawke's hand, noticing blue eyes narrowing as they focused on her face. "Ah, yes," the taller woman drew her hand back as if on fire, then brought the other to Merrill's eye level, holding a small package. "Thought I'd share this with you."

"Oh, what is it?" Merrill took the bundle but the smell assaulting her senses answered the question. A wide smile formed on her face as she hurried to the hexagonal table which served as her dining, unbundling it as soon as she set it down. Two piping hot pastries were in a wooden bowl. "Are these...blackberry cupcakes?"

"Good, you could tell with just that. Maybe I should drop the silly mage bit and be a baker instead." Hawke beamed proudly as she walked to Merrill's side.

Merrill looked to Hawke, then back to the slices, brow crinkled in confusion despite the smile. "But blackberries don't grow in the Free Marches. Where did you..."

"I have contacts, well, Isabela does," Hawke cut off. "And I know how much you miss blackberries," She slipped her hands around Merrill's waist from behind and rested her chin atop the elf's head. Her nose scrunched. "You slept in the Hanged Man?"

The elf blushed and pulled away from Hawke, then seated herself on one of the dining chairs. "Uhm, you could tell?"

"Eau de cheap swill doesn't suit you," Hawke teased as she proceeded to the rundown kitchen. She shook her head with a stern look even before Merrill could stand from her seat. "Still have some of that tea I brought?"

"In that jar, by the moldy cheese." Merrill answered and looked helplessly at the taller woman invading her kitchen. "Honestly Hawke, I'm being a poor host like this."

"It's nothing, you tend my garden after all." Hawke answered, not even looking back to her companion. A small smile formed on her lips. "And I've always wanted to be a doting wife."

Merrill could have sworn Hawke cast a fire spell with those words given the warmth it caused her. She rested her chin on her arms upon the table, her green eyes took in the sight of Hawke being so domesticated, rummaging through her sparse kitchenware. Merrill laughed when Hawke said "Aha!" upon finding a small brass kettle. Hawke turned with a questioning look at the elf.

The elf felt her heart running away. "I just never thought about you and housework. I couldn't imagine you doing anything so mundane." She giggled.

Hawke pouted. "Oh, Merrill, you wound me. I am the eldest daughter to a peasant family, after all." She then busied herself with tea preparation, setting the water-filled kettle over the fireplace. Hawke settled at the desk, waiting for the water to boil, seemingly in deep thought. As the kettle whistled the woman rubbed the old scar on her face.

Merrill was alarmed by the gesture. Hawke only did that if it hurt from the cold or if something disturbed her; and she could not fathom how Hawke could be cold right by the fireplace.

Hawke retrieved the kettle and placed it on the dining table, right by Merrill. She returned to the kitchen counter and soon had silverware, a worn teapot filled with loose tea leaves, and two similarly weathered cups. Her eyes finally met those of the elf's, slightly narrowed in concern. "Want to talk about yesterday?"

Merrill froze, then looked away. "Isabela brushed it off. Even had a laugh out of it. She may have been stealthed but..." Merrill murmured, thoughts traveling back to her mishap. "I always say magic is a gift but what good is it if I can't even use it properly? I even dabble in blood magic. El'garnan, I'm such a fool."

"Then I'm a fool as well. I got Aveline too, remember?" Hawke retorted with a smirk, pouring the steaming water into the tea pot.

Merrill frowned, watching Hawke fall into a seat beside her. "That's different, it wasn't even a spell."

"But still magic." Hawke took Merrill's hand then stroked the line between Merrill's brows with the thumb of her other hand, offering a small smile as she did. "I'm not going to condone your use of blood magic but you have to realize that magic is both a gift and a weapon. It can cause just as much harm as a blade or an arrow to people we care for, if we're careless. The most we can do is to ensure it never happens again."

Merrill kept her eyes on the table for a while, not offering any reply. She then took the tea pot and started pouring the steaming beverage into their cups, serving Hawke before herself. Her olive eyes focused on the dark liquid, frowning. "Oh, I think we may have over-steeped it. I'm afraid it won't do your cupcakes justice. What do you think?"

Hawke took a small sip from her cup. "It should do." She set aside her tea cup then tugged at the corners of Merrill's mouth, shaping it into a smile. "It tastes better if you smile, Love." Hawke said, then broke off a piece of the pastry with a fork, raising it close to the elf's mouth.

Merrill failed to suppress a genuine smile. She closed her eyes and bit the offered pasty. "Creators what have I done to deserve you?" she asked after finishing the tidbit, her voice swelled with emotion.

"Fishing, are we?" Hawke laughed as she took a bite from her handiwork, chasing it with the tea. She then leaned forward, touching her nose to Merrill's, dabbing some blackberry filling on the latter's cheek.

Green eyes trailed to the side, following Hawke's thumb upon the flustered cheek. Merrill shivered when her lover's lips drew so close she felt her breath upon her mouth, Hawke's sultry voice then assaulted her long ears with a whisper, "You're the most selfless and generous person I've ever met. And don't even get me started on the physical aspect of it, I'll end up ravaging you." Hawke's warm tongue then lapped the filling from Merrill's cheek, jolting desire so great the elf was trembling. The smaller woman closed her eyes and parted her lips, waiting for the inevitable kiss.

"Shit. Oh, shit."

The curses made Merrill peek an eye open and saw a very flustered and fidgety Hawke, already inching away from her. "Hawke, what's wrong?" she asked, alarmed. A thought crossed her mind, hence she took the scarf around her neck, sniffing it. "Mythal, do I really smell that badly?" Merrill inquired, quite embarrassed.

"No, no!" Hawke's eyes darted in all directions. She began wolfing down her cupcake. "I just," she mumbled, crumbs spilling from her mouth. "Remembered! Something," she washed the pastry down by gulping the remaining tea. She coughed, then withdrew a hanky from her pocket and dabbed her mouth clean, manners getting the better of her. "Right, Aveline told me she has a lead on the qunari delegation." Hawke rose from her seat and backpedaled to the door. Merrill followed her, obviously confused at the abrupt change of mood. "And I'm supposed to meet her in the Hanged Man, like, right now." She rubbed the back of her head, looking away from the elf. "I'm really sorry," Hawke quietly offered.

"It's...alright." Merrill said tentatively, masking her disappointment as she held the doorknob. She was far too hot and bothered to be left with just her earlier reading. "Could I go? I promise I won't mess up this time," she asked hopefully.

Hawke pouted. "Aww, sorry Love. Templars are involved and Fenris is coming." She took Merrill's dainty hands then kissed them. "I don't think I can hold myself back next time he badmouths you."

"Oh." Merrill said flatly, unable to hide her feelings this time, but still gave her lover a small smile. "Please do take care of yourself, you're an apostate too. Well, not a blood mage like me, but still, templars won't take kindly to you. Promise you'll keep safe? Oh, and the others too, of course? Who else is going, anyway?" Merrill rambled, trying to keep her frustration at bay.

"Aveline, Fenris, and Sebastian. You know, the templar-friendly bunch." Hawke quickly kissed Merrill's hands again, then her mouth. "I promise I'll be safe. And," here eyes intently met Merrill's gaze. "I'm really sorry for running off."

"It's alright, ma vhenan," Merrill whispered, trapped by the blue orbs fixed on her. The dim light of the house only heightened their almost luminous allure. "Thank you for the cupcakes, they were delicious," she said, peeling her eyes away when she felt her libido rising. She then opened the door for her visitor, fidgeting as the warm feeling refused to go away. "Could I drop by your estate later? And use the bath, too? They've been rationing water here since it's summer and I just can't feel clean with only a bucket of water. Or less, really. They've been stingy."

Hawke let out a chuckle. "Of course you can, Love, you need not ask. But don't wait up, I might be late." Hawke then stepped out, still with an apologetic look. "I swear I'll make it up to you."

"No need, silly, I understand. And thank you for...oh, I already thanked you for the cupcakes, didn't I?" Merrill's eyes surveyed the immediate surroundings and seeing no one, she pecked a soft kiss on the taller woman's cheek. "Dareth shiral, Hawke." Merrill blushed as she uttered her farewell.

Hawke rubbed the spot where she was kissed. "Mmm. I'll see you soon," she said, grinning widely even as she walked off.

Merrill closed the door and rested her back against it. Was this how Hawke felt whenever she got... jumpy midway whatever they were doing?

Probably, she decided.

She frowned, she would never have thought it was _this_ unpleasant. The elf then felt guilty, for herself and her lover. Love is good, but with it came certain needs, which were all too apparent at the moment because of the unsatisfied warmth Merrill was left with.

With renewed vigor, Merrill went back to her room and fell on her belly upon the lumpy mattress. She then grabbed beneath her bed and got the first smut rag she had her hand on, studying with much ardor as she would her books on elven history.

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><p>"Maker's breath that was close." Hawke rubbed her temples as she stomped to the Hanged Man from the alienage. "Why is seduction my first instinct these days?" she muttered to herself, ignoring the curious looks she got from bystanders. She had been such a philandering trollop for the past few years that seduction had been second only to survival as far as her instincts went. The way Merrill kept freezing was frustrating, but she promised herself she wouldn't force it until the adorable, sweet, pretty and irresistibly innocent Dalish loosened up on her own. Hawke groaned. Given those thoughts she must really be losing it. "Aveline wasn't kidding."<p>

Hawke sighed as she stopped walking, her similarly colored eyes looked up at the sky above.

"I'll just have to try harder at being busy."


	4. Touching Pride

A/N: Remember when I could roll out a release in two days? Good times, _good times_. And I'd like to thank clennon8 for proofreading and editing. Yay!

Edit: For moar medieval gardening. Belated thanks to chipmouskin!

Disclaimer: I own the story, but not the characters. EA and Bioware does.

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><p>Leandra spent her morning as she usually did; made breakfast, ate with her daughter, and was then idly rearranging the fresh flowers that adorned the entrance of the estate's main hall. Her daughter, however, had been erratic as of late. For the past few weeks, instead of returning to her room to sleep in or going out for whatever errand she had to run, Hawke had chosen to rob Bodahn of his manservant duties until her Dalish friend dropped in for a visit. She watched her eldest fussing around the estate's main hall; breezing between rooms, listing rune and potion orders, shuffling through letters, even clearing out her adventurer's chest of old items. When Hawke disappeared into the wine cellar and reappeared in a drab shirt and ratty pants, armed with a set of chimney sweep's tools, Leandra decided to call her attention.<p>

"Love, I think Bodahn can handle that."

"I've sent him out for a message," Hawke then made a small nod towards the vacant dwarf behind her. "And I don't trust Sandal with even the dimmest ember." Hawke blew a frozen breath that extinguished the dying fire. She then licked the frost away from her lips, regarding her task with a smirk. "Besides, if it was left to Bodahn he'd rather have it as it is, looking like a mineshaft."

The Hawke matriarch sighed. The only thing that ever worked with her daughter was bluntness. "Is there something bothering you, Marian?" Leandra noticed her daughter's slight flinch at the mention of her first name. She held a chuckle; her eldest was so used to just 'Hawke' she knew how alien it sounded to her. Maker, it sounded alien even to her, and she's her mother.

Hawke shrugged as she began shoveling the piled ash and ice in the fireplace. "Mother, believe me when I say you don't want to hear it." A burst of ashes filled the room and soot marked the woman's fine features.

Leandra covered her nose and mouth with a hand as she waved away the cloud of ash hanging around her. She gently took hold of Hawke's arm, interrupting her task. Leandra met her daughter's dirty face with a smirk. "Try me."

The eldest Hawke child sighed and emptied the ashes on a wooden bucket and dunked the shovel into it. "It's Merrill," Hawke sighed and dropped on the floor, sitting. "She's still not used to..." Hawke looked thoughtful and Leandra caught the faint blush on her daughter's face. "...touching. It's starting to affect my..." Hawke paused again, then coughed. "My pride. Let's go with that ."

Leandra looked at her daughter with a mix of shock and concern. It must be serious for Hawke to actually talk to her about her much guarded love life, and as any good mother would know, Leandra translated 'touching' to 'sex' and 'pride' to 'libido'. "I see. But how is this related to you avoiding Merrill and usurping Bodahn's chores for weeks now?"

"Months, Mother, months." Hawke loudly exhaled and slumped against the wall. She stared at the high ceiling of the estate. "I had to keep busy otherwise I might do...things. And I'm not evading Merrill, we see each other often enough in groups. Even that is bad," Hawke ran a hand through her face and hair. "So much that a passing glance makes me want to do things. To her. Even in a crowd." She turned back to Leandra, desperate. "Imagine if we're alone, Mother! I'll probably..." She paused as her brows crumpled at the waterclock. Her face then turned pale. "Shit." She mumbled as she sprang from the floor and ran up the stairs to the second floor.

Leandra watched in confusion as her eldest squirmed through the iron grills of the second floor windows. "Marian Hawke, what are you doing?" Leandra asked in an authoritative tone, resting both hands on her waist.

"Escaping my pride?" Hawke replied playfully, as if exiting via a window was a normal thing. "Please tell her I've been out since morning."

"Who's 'her'? And your clothes! And you're not wearing shoes!" Leandra cried after her daughter as she ran up the stairs.

"Least I have trousers!"

By the time she reached the window her daughter had already slipped through. Leandra watched Hawke land with a soft thud on the stone pavement and disappeared into the corner. Her features were marked with dismay, realizing that her child had employed magic to manage that kind of landing. It was sheer luck the street was empty. "Maker's breath, I swear that child..."

Several knocks interrupted Leandra's words, making her turn towards the door. She looked at the waterclock; it was a little past the tenth hour and knew the visitor was Merrill. "Sandal, could you get the door?" Leandra sighed her order. Her daughter must be really bothered if she deemed it necessary to escape Merill in such an outrageous manner.

Sandal scurried to the door and did as he was told. Leandra made her way to the estate's waiting area when she heard Sandal greeting her presumptive daughter-in-law with a dopey "Enchantment!" Her daughter, with much anxiety, had introduced Merrill to Leandra only several weeks ago and had been told that they have been together for nearing five months. It did not surprise her, really, given how much time they spent with each other, at least before Hawke became a frantic wreck. What surprised Leandra was that her philandering daughter _actually_ introduced the elf as her close companion. That fact alone was enough to make Leandra accept her daughter's choice, even with the earlier fiasco between the couple and Carver.

"Lady Amell! Uhm, good morning!" Merrill nervously greeted Leandra as the latter walked into the waiting room. She thought the elf should have eased around her by now but that certainly was not the case. Was this how an in-law should feel? "I was just going to borrow a watering pot for your garden. I'd have brought my own but Hawke told me it looks odd, carrying it here all the way from Lowtown." She blushed. " Oh, and I mean the estate's garden not your..."

"I told you just Leandra is fine, my girl." she smiled as she gave the girl a discreet go-over. Merrill was by far the most attractive elf she had met, nevermind the fact she did not meet many. Other elves pretty much looked rather plain to her, except for that other strange friend of her daughter's, Fenris. Who could not stand out with white hair and tattoos? Maybe it was the irrevocable air of sweetness around Merrill, or the perfectly symmetrical face, or perhaps the radiating innocence waiting to be vio-...alright. She could see then why her daughter was smitten. "Have a seat, I'll fetch the watering pot for you. Sandal, could you continue with the fireplace?"

Merrill meekly nodded. The Hawke matriarch and Sandal disappeared from the room, leaving Merrill to fidget alone in the waiting room's seats. Leandra soon returned, with a dark apron draped over her noble's gown and a brass watering pot, heavy with water. The elf snapped up from the bench like a cadet addressing her commander. "Ma serannas, uhm...Leandra," Merrill managed to get the other's name out of her mouth with much difficulty.

The older woman took notice of this and offered Merrill a smile as she handed over the gardening implement. "Careful dear, it's heavy," She opened the door for the elf and pulled out a pruning shear from her apron. "Mind if I join you? Some of the vines need trimming."

"O-of course, I thought so as well." Merrill stammered, tucking a loose braid behind her ear. She stepped out of the estate and regarded the vines climbing upon its walls. "I'd have done it myself but I'm not so tall and I can't really use my magic out here."

Leandra's eyes grew wide and almost threw a hand over Merrill's mouth. Instead, she cast her eyes around to see if anyone was within earshot. Thankfully, that loitering bald dwarf or anyone else wasn't around the mansion. Leandra sighed in relief and threw a stern look at the elf. Merrill seemed to realize her folly and became flustered. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to..."

"Please, just keep quiet and water the plants," Leandra sighed again. She did not want to be testy but years of hiding two apostate daughters had made her sensitive to careless mentions or displays of magic. The forlorn look on Merrill made Leandra relent. She took the young girl's free hand and gave it a light squeeze. "I'm sorry, but we can't be too careful." Merrill nodded and mumbled another apology. Leandra tried to reassure her with a smile. "Let's get right to it, shall we?"

The elf and noblewoman minded their own tasks in silence with Leandra feeling the prickly aura from her companion. She knew how jumpy Merrill was around her and broaching the subject of her daughter would make it all the more awkward. Leandra hoped she could still remember the noble's way of subtlety.

Thankfully, Merrill opened the subject. "Hawke's not in again today, is she?" the elf asked, keeping her back to Leandra as she watered the blooming embrium patch.

"Indeed. She went out earlier." A half-truth, but truth nevertheless. Leandra snipped off an unsightly vine protruding from the wall. "The dear girl's been so busy lately. She hasn't been neglecting you, has she?"

"Oh, no no, she's not!" Merrill exclaimed anxiously as her aim with the brass pot skid, watering the pavement instead. The young woman did not seem to notice this. "We see each other plenty in the Hanged Man and on her errands."

Leandra looked at the misdirected gardening and quietly sighed. As expected, Merrill knew something was amiss. "I don't doubt that," Leandra absently replied, slipping the shears into the front pocket of her apron as she went over to Merrill. She took the then empty watering pot away from the girl. "Care for some tea?" Leandra opened the door of the estate, gesturing for Merrill to follow her. She did.

They walked into the main hall and Leandra was surprised to see Bodahn inside. She must have been very absorbed with her company that she did not notice him come in. Leandra took off her heavy apron and together with the brass pot, handed it to Bodahn. "Thank you, Bodahn," she acknowledged. "Would you be so kind to prepare tea?"

Bodahn smiled proudly. "Already in the study, Mistress Amell. Piping hot lemon ginger blend, served with dark truffles. One of Serah Hawke's," he coughed, "friends, brought it yesterday."

Leandra smirked. Suitor, he meant. Given her daughter's looks it was no wonder that there were people who did not give up. She looked at Merrill, who did not seem to catch on. For once she was thankful for the elf's obliviousness. Leandra continued to lead Merrill, followed by Bodahn, into the study. Sure enough, an elegant set of porcelain and a box of dark sweets sat on the small table by the fireplace. Soon they were seated and Bodahn poured tea for the two women. The dwarf excused himself and left the pair.

As soon as Bodahn exited the study, Leandra regarded Merrill with a warm smile. "A lump or two?"

"Just one," Merrill loosened the scarf around her neck, shifting it back and forth around her neck in a fit of anxiety. "Is this a formal tea party? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with my manners yet. It was mentioned in a book I've read but I'm..." the elf chuckled nervously,"...I'm afraid it wasn't too accurate. Or credible. It's Isabela's you see."

"No, my girl," Leandra dropped a cube of sugar into Merrill's cup, then dropped another to her own, all the while wondering why the young elf had to mention to whom the book belonged. "If it was there would be more people, so please be at ease." The older woman then smirked, quite like her daughter did, as she stirred her tea. "Would you like to hear something interesting?"

Merrill, meanwhile, stirred her own tea with much noise as possible. "Of course. Is it about Hawke's childhood letters again? That last story you told me was amazing."

"Yes, but none of the previous sort." Leandra chuckled and set aside the silverware upon the saucer of her teacup. "You're the first person my daughter ever introduced to me." She enjoyed the blush that rushed to Merrill's face as she made her first sip.

"Really?" the elf asked, gaping. "But she's..." Merrill groped for the right word.

"Promiscuous," Leandra supplied as she rubbed her temples. "She takes after her father, Maker bless his soul. He always told me that he only calmed down after we met." Leandra smiled while picking up a truffle. "But she's never been properly in love. Until now, that is."

Merrill raised her cup towards her mouth with a shaky hand, almost spilling tea as she did. "T-that can't be true. I mean, she's had so many lovers, she must have loved at least one."

"Oh, you give my darling child too much credit." Leandra chuckled. "Back in Ferelden she feared running into her old flames more than templars. Once she called this young initiate by a different name and got slapped on both cheeks." The older woman set her cup down upon the saucer then rested her hands on her lap. "Trust me Merrill, you're my daughter's first love. You're both each other's firsts at something so..." Leandra drawled the last word suggestively as she held her cup close to her face, allowing her to hide the probing gaze directed at Merrill. The slight nod and red tint on the elf's cheek indicated success, hence Leandra continued. "So I hope you won't tire of easing her through this as you have been."

Merrill blushed even brighter as she shook her head, but that did not dim the determination on her features. "I won't."

"I trust you with that." Leandra gave Merrill a smile and a thorough gaze. The semi-rags she always wore certainly were unflattering. How many ratty green tunics does she own anyway? And she hoped that the mustard color of the scarf was its real color. An idea popped into the older woman's head. "Say, do you have any plans after this?"

Merrill thought for a moment, staring at her bare feet. "I was going to..." the elf paused, "I mean, no, none in particular, no." The girl began fidgeting again, shifting the scarf on her neck. "Why?"

Leandra smiled sweetly, intending to seal the deal. "I'd like you to meet my tailor, she may have something both you and Hawke will like."


	5. Blessed Harlot

A/N: I swear the dress isn't something special. But I just can't help myself so...please don't mob me if I disappoint (/ 'A')/. Last chapter up next!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, EA and Bioware does. Derivative work is mine.

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><p>"I can't believe you came to me for this, Kitten. I'm way better at <em>un<em>dressing people not otherwise."

"Who else would I go to, 'Bela? I don't have many friends and Varric is out of the question."

"Oh, I don't know? Maybe Hawke? ...wait, don't tell me you still haven't..."

"I just want to surprise her! Besides, you have a mirror. Well, I do too but the blighted thing doesn't reflect. Ow, I think that's a bit too tight."

"Oops, sorry. There, better?"

"Yes, ma serannas, lethallan. Well, what do you think?"

"I...Oh...wow. Look at you...wow. Right, spin like that. Oh. My. Maker's. Balls. I want to molest you with that thing on. What a hot little number!"

"Teehee. Really? It's actually quite modest, the rest was commissioned to a different store. Leandra said it should be done by the end of the month."

"Mmm. I think you should just keep it like that. I bet that lecher noble of yours will do a little flip if you do."

"Ugh. I wish it's over and done with already...ah! I mean this! The outfit! Not..."

"Mmm-mmm-mmm. Not what, Kitten?"

"Nothing, nothing! I can't wait to show it to Hawke. And Leandra. Both of them. ...uhm 'Bela, your hand is up my skirt."

"Sorry, reflex! And isn't Harvestmere starting tomorrow?"

"Hmm, I think so, yes? Could you help me get this off?"

"And if it's Harvestmere tomorrow...?"

"...it's the end of...oh. Oh! Creators, is it r-...but I just fetched this last week!"

"Kitten, _when _did you last go out of the house?"

"I...I don't...remember. Elgar'nan! I should fetch it right now!"

"You have to show me later. Be careful, Kitten! Especially from lechers!

SLAM!

"…...ahh what a blessed harlot that Hawke is."


	6. Chastity Mail

A/N: After several rewrites due to indecision between tame and smut AND general slacking, here's the final chapter. Despite what I've said, do not hesitate to mob me, I deserve it (/ ;3;)/! Thank you for sticking around! An Act One piece is being written as I'm uploading this.

Addendum: I must thank th1nm1nt for proofing and editing!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, EA and Bioware does. Derivative work is, however, mine.

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><p>Hawke was hunched over the table in her estate's study, reading 'The Pursuit of Knowledge' by Brother Genitivi. It was at least interesting and helped pass her time while waiting for whoever had to pick up the package left by her mother. Why did Leandra have to give both dwarves the day off while she took Orana out with an errand? Hawke only begrudgingly agreed because it was a late afternoon and hence, Merrill's alone time with the eluvian. She assured herself that the chances of Merrill visiting the mansion during these hours were nil. Hawke stared at the page, frowning, when the words suddenly failed to make sense. When was the last time she saw Merrill in private, anyway? Hawke rubbed the ridge of her brows as she recalled:<p>

Not since she brought pastries.

Hawke longed for Merrill's private company. Either in the alienage while the elf read her texts or while awkwardly sipping tea in the study after tending the estate's garden. Or anywhere, for that matter. Hawke loved distracting the elf from whatever she was doing with her wily ways. Distraction which lasted only until her fingers got tangled in Merrill's chainmail. Hawke swore that the protective steel acted like a chastity belt. Merrill being Merrill, always apologized profusely but never once seemed to think that the bothersome article got in the way; and Hawke being Hawke, never asked Merrill to take it off either. "What a wonderful plan, Hawke, keep busy," she muttered to herself as she turned a page. "Now it's more awkward then ever."

Blue eyes landed on the large bundle across the table. It was carefully wrapped in brown parchment and was bound by a thin cord that was secured into a neat ribbon on top. Hawke slumped her chin on her palm and yawned. She wished whoever was going to pick up the thing would show up soon. The quiet and cozy warmth made her sleepy. Hawke had almost drifted into slumber when an incessant rapping interrupted her rest.

"Finally," Hawke yawned again as she got up from her seat and dragged herself to the door. The visitor kept on rapping at the heavy door, making Hawke grumble an irritated "Coming!" That immediately halted the noise. She was rubbing sleep from her eyes when she opened the estate's main door and was greeted by the sight of Merrill. Any drowsiness left in Hawke was immediately wiped away.

The pair stood speechless in each others' gaze before awkwardness took over. Hawke stared mutely at the elf, clad in an extravagant-looking white wool cloak that reached down to her ankles. She wondered what Merrill was doing with such luxurious clothing. Merrill had always struck her as more inclined to blow her hard-earned coin on books and materials for the eluvian rather than food. Thus was the reason she obliged herself to supply the elf with food, even before they became a couple. Looking back, Hawke should have supplied her with clothes as well.

Merrill's presence was suddenly lost upon Hawke as she wondered what clothes she would have supplied.

"Uh, Hawke, may I come in? It's getting chilly here. I promise I won't be a bother, I'll be gone after I get the package."

Hawke shook her head and noticed that the elf was already shivering in the late autumn wind, despite the fur hood covering her head. "Ah, of course! I'm sorry, Merrill. Don't be a stranger, come in, come in." Hawke fussed over the smaller woman, unconsciously placing a hand on Merrill's shoulder as she led her into the estate. The touch visibly made Merrill flinch, making Hawke feel like she had just been punched on the nose. She immediately withdrew her hand and tried to lighten the mood with a smile. "So the package is yours?"

Merrill nodded as she pulled down the hood covering her head then crouched down on a knee to pet the mabari hopping around her feet. "Yes, I went to pick it up at the store but the shopkeep said he sent it here at Leandra's request. He was really polite about it too, apologizing for the misunderstanding." Merrill tilted her head, looking thoughtful while she rubbed both of the eager dog's ears. "Not that it was their fault, I'm the one who forgot I'm supposed to pick it up with Leandra here, in the estate. I even forgot it was due out today. Where is she any...oh!" The elf shot up and offered a sheepish smile, leaving the dog disappointed from the lack of further petting. "Pardon me, here I am rambling when it's been a while since we've been alone like this."

Hawke stiffened as she met Merrill's eyes that asked an unuttered question. "Mhmm, quite a while." She raised a hand to touch the elf's cheek, but stopped, not quite trusting what she would do if she touched the bare skin. "I'm so sorry, Love. I've just been...busy." Hawke ended as she fought the uncomfortable urge building within her, not even having the energy to dwell on her mother's obvious intervention. She chuckled nervously as she brushed aside the hair over her eyes. "And mother took you shopping? That explains what you're wearing, odd she never mentioned it."

"You mean this?" Merrill looked down at herself, smiling. "She got me this, among other things. Your mother has great taste, you take after her." The elf caught herself and shuffled her hands from beneath the cloak. "I mean in clothing. Not in lovers." Merrill cast her eyes downward and watched the mabari retreat to the inner halls. "That's a bit assuming for me, if so."

The inevitable blush and bashful look on Merrill's face almost made Hawke a criminal, in her own mind at least. She took a large step backwards and away from the other woman. Hawke wracked her brains, thinking how she should tackle the dilemma that was Virgin Merrill. She was fully cognizant that keeping busy wouldn't cut it anymore, but her lover did not seem any more receptive now than when they first became an item. Neither was Hawke willing to seduce Merrill, even if that was the only way she had ever gotten to bed with anyone in the first place. Was it really so hard to bed out of love or was she just being an idiot? Hawke sighed inwardly. Back to square one was the only plausible answer for her at the moment. Hawke put on her most charming smile, pointing in the direction of the study. "Uh, so! Your package is waiting, but...if you're not in a hurry," her eyes trailed to the side as she scratched the side of an eyebrow. "Everyone's out for the evening. Would you like to join me for supper?"

Merrill's eyes widened with surprise but promptly made a nod in assent. "I...I'd love to."

Hawke spun on her heels, only to turn back to Merrill before reaching the main hall. "Maker, where are my manners?" She held a hand out to the elf, still smiling. "Want me to hang that cloak of yours?"

"Oh, yes please." The elf unlaced the knot securing the heavy cloak draped upon her dainty figure and offered it to her host.

Hawke transitioned from stunned upon catching a glimpse beneath the cloak to completely blank when Merrill held out her shed clothing. The elf was showing far too much skin in the white chestpiece with its complex blue sash and it suggested far too well the lithe figure that was beneath. Her slender arms were bare except for the bracers on each forearm. The neckline dropped far below the sake of modesty, narrowing to a point below Merrill's breasts, the entirety of her meager cleavage visible to prying eyes. The corollary skirt likewise offered little cover; heavy embroidered fabric at the center looked like a loincloth as it parted from either side and only reached midway down the hips. The ascent on each side of the centerpiece, however, revealed slivers of Merrill's inner thighs. Hawke was both relieved and disappointed when her eyes reached downwards, seeing that the calves were covered by conservative dark leather and steel guards. The metal pauldrons and the matching leg and armguards belied the outfit's protective purpose, but as it was a well-placed arrow could maim and mar the wonderfully smooth skin of Merrill's elegant neck, wherein Hawke's gaze lingered.

Hawke swallowed and realized her mouth had gone dry. She snatched the cloak away from the elf and let half a year of repressed feelings take over.

* * *

><p>Merrill's arm almost hurt when Hawke tore the cloak away from her hand. She could see her lover was affected by her outfit, given how long the woman was staring with her mouth agape. If Hawke was impressed or shocked, Merrill could not tell, so she decided to ask.<p>

"What..."

The question never made it out of her mouth as it was captured with Hawke's own. As surprised as she was Merrill's senses failed to register that she was pushed to the estate's main door until she felt it against her back when Hawke pinned her close. Merrill's cloak must have been discarded somewhere as both of Hawke's hands were upon the elf; one was upon the bare crook of Merrill's neck and kept her pinned while the other hand greedily pulled a slender hip to her side, allowing the taller woman to press herself closer to her lover's center. The urgency in Hawke's hands were mirrored in her lips. Amidst the haze of sensations, the proper lady in Merrill willed to break contact and insist that if any bedding was to be had, it should be after dinner, a romantic talk, and the right atmosphere. She may be weaned on random sex through Isabela's books but she was not about to...

"Ah!" Merrill gasped as the hand on her thigh moved beneath the fabric, grabbed her behind and on its way grazed her sex. The slight brush, even through the elf's smallclothes, sent a shiver through her body. The proper lady was decisively crushed.

Hawke, however, suddenly withdrew. Merrill's eyes flung open and saw the guilty look on the others' face. "Maker's breath, I'm sorry Merrill!" Hawke blurted, her hair mussed, robes disheveled and red-faced from the activity. Merrill found herself captivated by the sight. "It's just...you looked so..." Hawke's usually eloquent self stumbled for words when she stole a glance at the elf and just as quickly, turned her head away. "...something." She sighed and began walking towards the inner room. "I'll get your package."

A pang of panic and disappointment raced through Merrill. She did not know what made Hawke relent, but she knew and felt that leaving things as they were would be excruciatingly painful. She did not even know what she was missing and the unsatisfied need she had at the moment left her body reeling.

How much more for her very experienced and obviously horny lover?

Merrill took hold of Hawke's wrist before she could exit the waiting room. Hawke seemed surprised; she looked over her shoulder at the elf, wide-eyed with eyebrows raised.

"Merrill?"

The woman in question met Hawke's eyes and simply uttered her words as they formed in her head. "Hawke, let's get naked and have sex," she did not notice the shock that crossed the other's face. "I mean, you know, lovemaking." Merrill's fingers tightened around Hawke's wrist as she stared at the floor with the majority of her blood rushing to her head. "I don't even know what I should be doing and I know I can't make you feel as good as your touch makes me feel but I've been reading and-"

"My touch makes you feel good?"

"Yes!" Merrill cried and met Hawke's questioning gaze, scandalized by the question. As if her lover's touch could cause anything else in her. Words continued to spill from the elf's lips. "Well, not just that. Everything you do with me, really. I especially like it when you just look at me, smiling. Prob'ly because I love your eyes and-"

Merrill's rambling abruptly ended when the surprisingly physically-able mage scooped her up and was slung over a shoulder. The elf was stunned to speechlessness for several moments until it sunk in that she was being moved into the inner halls. She became flustered with confusion. From being near rid of her chastity to being left frustrated, and now being carried off like a sack, Merrill was thoroughly lost. The lithe woman managed to lift her back just enough to see the corner of her companion's face.

"Uhm, Hawke, what are you doing?"

Hawke did not even look at her, hardly heaving as she began jogging up the stairs. "Having you for supper," she simply said.

Merrill could swear she saw the smile through Hawke's tone. "Oh," she mumbled and became even more flustered. A sheepish smile of her own formed on Merrill's face as her lover threw the bedroom door open.

* * *

><p>Release, or rather, releases, reduced the couple to a tangled mess of limbs and fabric upon the bed. Motionless except for their heaving chests, both women were catching their breaths as they stared at the dark canopy above them. Hawke was first to move, shifting herself up to Merrill. She fell on her stomach and draped an arm on the smaller woman's chest, drawing her lips near to a pointed ear.<p>

"You sure you've never done this?" Hawke whispered. "Where in the Void did you learn that...that swirly thing_?" _Her voice was hoarse from earlier vocalizations.

"Isabela," Merrill wheezed and tilted her head to face Hawke, but the dying light from the fireplace was behind the woman, allowing only a view of a curvaceous silhouette. Still, she could faintly see the worried luminous orbs fixated upon her. Merrill could not help but swoon at the sight and took the hand of the arm upon her, giggling through a kiss planted on Hawke's lips. "I meant her books. Isabela's books." Her face suddenly became anxious. "I hope you don't mind that I've read things like that. I wanted to please you as well but I had no idea how and the only thing I'm any good at is reading."

"Can't say I'm unhappy with the results. Pity 'bout the sheets, though." Hawke droned, relaxing into a smile. She freed her hand from Merrill's and lazily caressed the bare skin of her lover's side. "I'm glad you've loosened up, Love."

Merrill grinned. "I could say the same thing about you, ma vhenan."

A raspy chuckle escaped from Hawke. "Well, we both have Mother to thank for this little development, don't we? Speaking of which, what's in the package anyway?"

"Chainmail, pure argent." Merrill piped, barely noticing the other woman stiffen beside her. "I suppose that's why it took a while to finish. It goes with the chestpiece," she prattled, quite excited at the thought of showing off her new raiment in its entirety.

"So much for easy access," Hawke grumbled.

Merrill lifted a curious brow. "Did you say something?"

"Nothing. Oh well," Hawke shrugged then bolted up from bed, eliciting a small yelp from the elf. Before Merrill could recover the noble had planted herself on the smaller woman's pelvis and had pinned both wrists to her sides. With a mischievous grin Hawke loomed closely above her lover's face. "Guess I'll have to help myself now."

Despite the fierce blush, Merrill responded with a grin of her own. "You said something dirty, didn't you?"

Hawke nipped the elf's inviting bottom lip. "You bet."


End file.
